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DEAD MAN'S OMNIBUS PROSE by Cynthia Handloser
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BOOK
I: THE TIDE OF EYES
Act
I: Despair and Momentum.
Introduction: Images
of survival fading in the mist of departure. Life
fleeing from eternal hope. Around
every corner built suspense waiting a victim and their villain. Numbered
were the ashes and bodies, the tower of voices reaching to heaven. Their
arms outstretched to the guiltless God of glory. Their
screams echoing off the high tower walls.
Amongst the soot she sat so shameless confused with a knife, Sadly
singing ancient phrases of forgiveness and mercy, Deciding…
deciding… if her own life was worth another day. A
door opened, the shadows flashed blue and crimson as "it"
entered. And
what was "it"? How
had "it" found her? In
the distance could be heard a multitude, the laughter of dreamers. Spinning
from "it's" charged fingertips, lightly pressed to her red
lips, glistened a hush. She
rubbed the black stain from her face. "It"
brought with "it" the moon's shining light. The
glow burnt at her eyes. Stars
falling from "it's" stature, the darkness was no longer a
misery. The
fire falling in the moonlight, a welcomed anomaly. Blameless
was the absence. Innocent
was the unshaped, a beautiful blanket of silence. Souls
parting and becoming in her naked view, this was the last day on earth. The
last night serving thoughts thrown away. Emotions
buried in the gown, a shroud allowing the wind to blow the balance down. Sorrow
falling from her cheeks wet flying into the air as stars lighting the
Way. The
Way… the Way… the Way from despair. Crippled
in a cage she pressed, she pressed the walls' will to embrace her. She
could not believe. As
"it" came closer and closer she watched the matrix of
"it's" eyes speak. Her
breath could not find her. No
words spoke as loud as "it's" eyes picking up the pieces. Putting
the patchwork of her hope back together with "it's" stitching
nails. A
gleam. A
glare. Intently
looking at her through undying madness. A
glance. A
tear. Dropping
her head. The
corner of her eye believing again. Resisting. Tilting
the balance. Fighting
in fear. The
fresh silent air. Once
good and fair. Once
truthful and once strong. "It"
touched her shaking amongst the pain fitting who she was. This
could not been done without Him. Him. How
she wished for Him now. How
she wished for Him to be real. Time
stepped backwards as the ancient ones entered. Alone
she stood before Him as His beauty departed with a chill. Unmasked
was her essence, the truth of her deeds. The
ugliness, the sins she brought into life. The
beautiful, the love she let into light. The
memories, the times she looked alone. The
plea she sent out to Him. The
evenings she walked in worry discussing "this"… "this
hell". The
days she raised her eyes to the heavens. The
nights she slept in peace and slept in pain. The
shadows of confusion and the seconds, minutes, hours: the moments of
restrain. Awakened
with the screams and eyes watching what had been done to her, to them. Moments
of injustice weeping. Precious
seconds waking. The
Old and Infinite beside her as her eyes closed for the last time, A
rock moved an irresistible force. "Take
me home Father for I can bear no more. Be
this my last thought, meaning is judgment and I could have stayed
forever for a touch, that
undying spirit of love, the fighting spirit praying for time to crawl, and
the simple things that in the last hour matter. That is the
difference." She
felt the yellow flames burning bright blue touching her tenderly waking
a hidden monster. And
as the sun rose she wished for one more moment with the man she loved. And
in an instance she knew what that would do. Oh
the sting of the flesh, how it desired it's own will even now… even
now. The
dead eating the waste of her flesh. The
flames burning away the fragile taking what was rightfully theirs. This
separation she welcomed as she fell and surrendered to the flames of the
ancients. Devoured
she felt free of the pain. Free
of the guilt. She
had been last and she had been His. And
too what was left of her walked with the one answering her prayers. Inside
this cage of being, the prison walls were ripped of reality. All
that remained was a shell. Then
just as she felt empty, a flash of light, an electric energy was a kiss. Leaving
all reason, she chose love buried in this deep breath of death. Could
her sacrifice have saved them? Could
she have done more? "It"
was picking her apart as He was planting in her faith. This
dead man, this so called wraith. His
blood was on her hands and still it had not saved the slaughtered lambs. She
had one last wish deep down in the abyss of light. Soft
green veils dressed the pleasures of the flesh spoiled in the blue
stormy skies. May
I see it before the fall? The
sinful fall. She
lay endlessly listening. The
fog falling lightly upon her to the estranged voice of nature, Unknowing
she was still alive, love grew from the delicate sting. From
golden fountains of life spilling over to the twilight turning day into
night, In
the distance gleamed the stars, twinkling, looking, watching. She
danced in the clover of her kind. She
danced… how kindly she danced. As
the fountain faded she walked to her coffin. The
hinges flying from the clear blue air, She
lay hushed as He closed the lid and ended her despair. He
sat on her pine box slowly turning the crank whistling a tune as He
rode. He
rode the tide of eyes to a sea of fortune as if no one ever knew her. Amongst
the flash of light, the shooting flames of fire, the terror and waking
thunder, She
shouts, "My friend, I can't walk alone. How will I see without mere
eyes, how will I feel without touch, how will I know without a care too,
and how will I love without time chasing me? Who am I behind this mask?
Will you ever leave me?" And
He replied, "How will you ask without a voice and hear without a
choice?" The
box broke upon the shores of Hell like a flower losing it's petals to
splinter where they sat
quietly tasting the journey in their beings one so called dead
and one very much alive. Act 2: Substance and Vibration. Alone
shattering deep on the banks of spirit rising in color arose a flux. So
many wisdoms and liberties taken on a black river bed. He
was singing to her phrases with low grace as the skies of fire burned
embers of red. Here,
there was chaos. There
were trenches for the unforgiving. Swirling
the lake of fire rose icy winds of chatter. She
was conquered and devoured by a crash of sound admiring her pine box
broken. A
stream of vibrations falling and flying flung feeding on the passing
phenomena. Overcome
by fits of voice and purity somewhere lost on a faceless soul, Feminine
passions purred with the phantom's breezy song. Shaking
His mighty black robe endlessly the colors flew from his sleeves, Departing
with sadness the static ones fell to weep. As
she smiled in awe noticing below them long forgotten, Human
magnetism disturbed the Beast. Uncompromised
the burning was released upon the green veil as they watched the world
burn. This
that spurn and spun a cradle. The
swamped planet now a sphere of disillusionment. Matter
churning into a ball of oblivion. Gray
rock. God's
marble. Gone
forever. So
many souls traveling the tide. He
came to her without words or shape how simple they belonged together. Unformed
subjects themselves were resting in the eyes of death's tragedy. Watching
the violent and violet separate and fade from dark and light blue hues
to white. Watchers
outside the perfect circle in the shade of a piano playing the scales
low and soft, Loud
and stricken, precise and then clumsy, quick and repeating choppily
choppy. Artistic
expressions smiling into a cry as the unshaped danced in the open night. Clear
spirits like air filling a sigh curling up with a kiss. Solitude's
tear falling for the visible symphony of an evening of bliss. "It
has been done." He whispered. She
knew her solitude. It
dug at her like a grave and in Hell belonged her fascination and fear. In
Hell she was to bury it there. Peeking
and hiding in the veiled black covered wail they were giggling in the
obvious. Joining
in with the choir of divination mocking its serenity. The
Infinite The
angels The
celestial in the Astral. The
spirit. The
ideal. The
real gathering in the Astral was happening and He had to go, Her
world had ended as she flew high, hand and hand with the dead man. Violins
bowing sweetly with a heavy drum. The
substance beating until they were one. Sweet
surrendering. The
end of Revelations. The
mood was without thought as she smiled on looking to the union and the
symphony. As
He pulled her closer soft was His touch to her. Calm
was her fears in His presence as He asked soft and soundlessly, "Are
you ready to leave?" Sunken
the waves formed in the air the vibrations were broken in stasis and
static. They
reached out to Him but could not touch Him. The
eyes watched silent waiting for her answer. And
then came a peaceful moment. A
sense of power. A
trap. Another
cage. Another
death for the pine box she buried there. In
disappointment of self she looked back to the sea and fallen she would
be so wounded. Her
world now spinning without breathe. She
answered and said nothing. Act
3: Beginning to an En
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